I Did Nothing
by Secre
Summary: Minerva realises what a terrible mistake leaving the Potter boy with the Dursley's was all those years ago. Will things change if she does something now? Minerva and Severus join forces. Rated T for safety.
1. I did nothing

**Chapter 1: I did nothing**

I remember the day we left the Potter boy with those muggles as if it were yesterday. I'd watched them all day and I knew that there was something wrong, I knew they shouldn't be entrusted with the life of the Boy Who Lived. They couldn't even be trusted with their own child, let alone one of the magical world. Their boy was a terror; spoiled and vile. I remember my fear as I recollected Lily Potter talking to James about her sisters' hatred of all things magical, of how she was taunted and bullied as a child. And I wondered whether her views had changed, I feared that the Potter boy would be facing the same abuse. And I did nothing.

I remember how horrified I was that Albus was even suggesting we entrust such a small, precious boy who had already come through so much with those people. I remember how I objected. I objected because they were nothing like us, would never be able to understand him, would never be able to help him grow. And I remember Albus' response like it was yesterday. _Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be , growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?'_ His exact words. And because it was Albus, the infallible, great Albus, I believed him.

We left a small child on the front step of those muggles on a bitterly cold November night, with nothing but a blanket and a letter to protect him from harm. I knew it was wrong, how could I not. You don't leave a tiny child asleep on a doorstep, you wouldn't even do that to a niffler. But we did. Myself, Albus Dumbledore and Hagrid all left that boy alone on a doorstep in a world that would never recognise him. Why? Because we trusted Albus, we have always trusted Albus. He is the leader of what is light and good in our world, he is the greatest wizard of our century and we would have followed him off the ends of the earth had he asked. We trusted him. Now I am wondering if we made a mistake.

Did he know what would happen? Did he actually intend for those muggles to be so cruel, so abusive, so neglectful? Can I actually believe that? Or was he just naïve. Did he think that Petunia would look kindly on the small child because she was her sister's orphaned babe? Because if he did he was sorely mistaken, and I can't believe that it has taken me til now to find out. Surely the man must have checked on him? Surely he went to make sure that everything had actually worked out the way he wanted? Surely the wizard who we would all die for didn't simply abandon the boy with no chance of salvation? Surely he couldn't have?

We knew that there were more cases of accidental magic in the boy than would normally be expected for one so young, and I just assumed that Albus would be keeping track of what was going on. We all know that accidental magic happens most frequently when a child is upset, scared or angry, but it happens for other reasons as well. I assumed that it was simply because he was the child of two of the brightest young wizards I have had the pleasure and misfortune of teaching. James may have been powerful, but he didn't always use it in the most mature of ways. I suppose Albus made him Head Boy to try to teach him some level of responsibility, it didn't have much of an effect at the time. Now though, I look back and wish I hadn't treated him so harshly.

I couldn't believe it when Hagrid told me that the boy had no idea that he was a wizard, no knowledge of Hogwarts, no memories of his parents. His relatives had given him nothing. And when he said that Potter had been told Lily and James had been killed in a car crash, I wanted to apparate straight there and knock some sense into them myself. Lily and James in a car crash? It's absurd. Hagrid repeated their words to me. _We swore we'd stamp it out of him! _I took it as metaphorical and though it made my blood boil that they thought of the hero of the wizarding world as some mere freak, I did nothing. I thought maybe, perhaps Dumbledore had been right. Maybe this was better for Potter. He hadn't grown up with an over-inflated ego and so would perhaps be slightly less inclined towards to his father's antics whilst at the school.

But when Hagrid knocked on the castle door and I swung it open I was almost rendered speechless. It took all my wits to give out the usual welcoming speech to the first years and I have to admit I was a little more brusque than usual. He was so small. First years are always small but the Potter boy was tiny in comparison to the rest of them. He was pale, thin and tiny. He looked so defenceless. His glasses were crooked on his nose and he was still squinting as if they weren't helping him to see that well. I turned away and started walking before I was caught staring, I couldn't be seen to show that kind of weakness.

But even so, I couldn't miss the slight limp as he followed the rest of his classmates, the limp that the Weasley boy had clearly missed. There was no mistaking a Weasley and it seemed those two had become friends. The Boy Who Lived could certainly have made a worse choice providing this young Weasley didn't follow in the footsteps of the twins. Having two set of pranksters in the school at once would be worse than when the Marauders were at large. And the Weasley's always ended up in Gryffindor, every last one of them so this one would be my responsibility as well. But the Potter boy…who could have treated this boy so badly. And how could I have done nothing?

I watched him as he walked towards the Sorting Hat after I called his name. I paid no attention to the sudden hissing of whispers and craning of necks as all of the other students heard the words POTTER, HARRY. I was too busy watching the way he walked, the slight stumble to his gait suggesting either weakness or pain. I couldn't take my eyes away from how gaunt he was, how thin. The hat never fit any of our first years, but it looked obscene on Potter. I looked at Albus briefly to find him scrutinising Potter in much the same way as I have been, but unlike my own there's no concern in the older man's eyes. Instead there's the trademarked Dumbledore twinkle.

My own house erupts as Potter is sorted into Gryffindor with the Weasley twins being the most raucous as would be expected, but still I pay them no mind. I don't even glare. I'm too fixated on the head teacher, the man I have given my life to willingly and without complaint. The man I have served. He's smiling. He's smiling like a kid with a new toy and he's looking straight at the Potter boy. With that twinkle. He can't have known. He can't have. It's not possible. And I did nothing. I look towards the Gryffindor table as I call out TURPIN, LISA and I can't miss the flinch the boy gives as he's clapped on the back by another student. By the time Albus gives his speech, which is just as crazy as he usually manages I'm fuming. I let Potter be placed in the hands of those muggles, I trusted the man sat at that table with that damnable twinkle.

And I did nothing. Am I still to do nothing now?


	2. An Uneasy Alliance

**Chapter 2: An Uneasy Alliance**

The rest of the meal, I can't help but look at the Potter boy. I fear I made poor company as far as the rest of the staff were concerned; both Hagrid and Pomona tried talking to me but quickly gave up due to my distraction. I watch the shock that is so evident on his face at the food that appears and the apparent reluctance to start eating, I see the way his head is kept down and there is none of the exuberance I have come to expect from the excitement of the Sorting feast in his face. His eyes are wary and afraid. Lily's eyes are terrified. It is Severus' sneer that finally shakes me from my preoccupied gaze.

"Already star stuck by our new celebrity, Minerva? I would have expected better of you. But then, I suppose having the precious Boy Who Lived sorted into your house is a feather in your cap, isn't it?

Over the years I have worked with him, I have grown used to Severus' snide mannerisms and even learnt to fence words with the man despite his outward demeanour. I've never been entirely sure why Albus trusts him so much, why he gave a verified Death Eater a second chance, but unlike many I have only questioned him once on the matter. His answer was vague and imprecise like many of Albus' answers are but he made it very clear that he trusted Severus with his own life and the lives of his students. It was also clear that he expected us to do the same. The man is cold-hearted and bitter, but he's got an exceptionally clever mind and is without a doubt a master of his art. And I have come to trust him, despite everything. Seeing Potter tonight though, I begin to wonder how much Albus really does know.

The shock I felt must have been evident in my face, as an unfamiliar flash of concern fleets briefly across the younger mans face before quickly being hidden by his characteristic sneer.

"Look at him, Severus," I say faintly.

"I do not wish to see James Potter's reincarnation any more often than I have to," he spits out venomously. "I have seen all I need to see. He is everything his father was, more's the pity."

For a brief second I am taken by an extreme impulse to shake the man until he can see past his petty resentment and long-held grudges. I refrain. Partially because it would be highly unprofessional and partly because I can, in part, see where he is coming from. The Gryffindor trio made his younger years a living hell and he is now too scarred and tainted to ever move past it. But he needs to see that he is not looking at James.

I glance back at my new Gryffindor just in time to catch him clutching his head as if it had spontaneously caught fire. The pain in his eyes is so intense that I actually look towards the Weasley twins in case they've tried to pull a prank that's gone wrong, but they're too busy tormenting some other first years. I have no doubt they're telling horror stories, probably about Severus…or maybe the Forbidden Forest.

"Looks like the boy already has the desire for attention that his father had in abundance," the drawl from beside me is enough to know that Severus caught the motion too. What he missed is how quickly Potter moved to reassure the eldest Weasley that nothing was wrong. I didn't. But then he looks at me again and that uncharacteristic expression of concern once more flashes across his face.

"Minerva, I am of more than half a mind to call Poppy over. You could easily be mistaken for one of the ghosts at present. If it is merely foolish Gryffindor pride that is keeping you at this table…"

"No, Severus," I interrupt whatever threat he was about to utter. "Look at him beyond James's face. Look at him as if he were just a newly sorted first year without the name. Look at him as if he had been sorted into Slytherin. As if he were a Malfoy."

For a moment it seemed as though the man was simply going to ignore me, he certainly had a blistering retort on his lips which was probably something about the dead rising if a Potter were ever sorted into Slytherin. But something, possibly the urgency of my tone made him reconsider. And I could see by his change of expression that he had suddenly seen what I'd seen.

"If the boy were a Slytherin," he began, tone measured and precise, "I would be seriously considering questioning his guardians right now." His gaze didn't leave Potter as he spoke and the boy seemed to flinch when he noticed the hooded gaze staring at him. "But first," and he looked back to me carefully, "I would be looking for Poppy Pomfrey."

With that he swept off like…well, like the giant bat many of the students compare him too. Yet another thing I blame the Weasley twins for, although possibly one of their lesser crimes. Severus does bring it on himself half the time and the Weasley twins are in detention more than any of their peers combined. If it wasn't quite so irritating it would be rather impressive.

I underestimated the man though, as even though my gaze had moved back to Potter, Severus was already acting. Within minutes our medi-witch was at my shoulder.

"Severus mentioned you had concerns about one of your stu-," she stopped suddenly before dropping to her knees and quickly taking my own wrist in her hand. "Minerva, how are you feeling? I can take you down to the Hospital Wing now, there is no point suffering in silence here," the concern in her tone was evident. Severus was right then, I must be rivalling Cuthbert Binns to have caused Poppy to react in this way. Even Albus was starting to stare at me.

"There's nothing wrong with me, Poppy, " I murmured quietly enough for the other faculty not to hear. Ignoring the woman's protests, I continued. "Did you see Potter when he came in?"

Poppy looked at me blankly. She must have thought I'd lost my mind. Of course she'd seen him, nobody would have missed the entrance of the Boy Who Lived. I looked back at the boy, he was faintly swaying in his seat and pale as death itself. I couldn't do nothing.

"Minerva?" Poppy's voice was one of real concern, but for the moment I couldn't focus on that.

I was already standing and, ignoring the gasps from faculty and student alike, I started to stride across the Great Hall. I even ignored the urgent looks Albus was suddenly sending my way. Poppy instinctively followed me as I walked towards the Gryffindor table, more concerned about me than anything else I would guess but it didn't matter. She was following and that was what I needed.

"Potter, I need you to come with me." I'd reached my destination and my voice clearly carried through the newly silent Great Hall. Potter's frightened eyes shot up to mine and I almost couldn't bear how much of Lily I could see in them. I nearly wept when he flinched as I put my hand on his shoulder.

"No way!" That was Fred. "Professor, he didn't do anything!" And George. "We swear!" Together.

Ronald was looking on in confusion but Percy began to berate the twins.

"Misters Weasley," I announced, addressing them all in the same breath, "Mister Potter has done nothing wrong and is not being punished in any way. The young Mister Weasley here can accompany us if he wishes but..." here I cut across the vocal protests of the twins, "...I do not believe anyone who regards a Hogwarts toilet seat to be an appropriate gift as an appropriate companion." The looks of shock on our two troublemakers faces was actually amusing. "Yes, I have already received an owl from your mother."

With that they were dismissed and I started to walk out the Great Hall more than aware that every eye in the room was on me, staff and student alike. The only sound was the mutinous muttering of the twins, who no doubt were already starting to plan some form of revenge. I wasn't concerned. Inventive they might be but the threat of their mothers' wrath kept them from going too far. Even Albus would think twice before crossing Molly Weasley without reason. They also know from experience that my punishments can be just as innovative as their 'pranks'.

I've done nothing once. I am not going to repeat my mistake. That boy is in my care now and damn Albus to hell if he believes I'll renounce my duties.

Even so, walking out the Hall I could feel those blue eyes drilling into my back. Those eyes, eyes that I usually take so much comfort in, that I have always trusted. But if there is one thing I'm certain about, it's that there'll be no twinkle in those blue eyes.

No twinkle at all.


	3. The Hospital Wing

Many thanks for the reviews - it's very much appreciated.

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**Chapter 3: The Hospital Wing**

I don't look back until we are out of the Great Hall and the door is firmly closed behind us. Potter is shaking like a leaf, whether from cold or fear I don't know. Without thinking about it I summon a winter cloak from my quarters to wrap around his shoulders. The boy looks up at me in shock with those heart-breaking emerald eyes. Clearly having someone make even a minimal effort to ensure he is comfortable is something he does not have much experience with. Once again that fury that I felt before fills me. I don't know what Albus thought he was playing at but as far as I am concerned, the games stop now.

Poppy kneels down in front of the boy.

"There is nothing to be worried about, Potter. We're just taking a trip down to the Hospital Wing where I can check you over."

"I'm fine, I promise." Potter's voice is as thin and frail as the rest of him. "I'll be right as rain once I've had some rest."

"I'll be the judge of that, Potter, not you." Poppy's mind is made up. Nothing Potter could possibly say will change her mind now, not now she'd got a good look at him.

The trip to the Hospital Wing goes quickly, but I am becoming even more concerned for the welfare of my student. Even the young Weasley has noted how grey Potter has become, and his limp is far more pronounced the further he walks. Just as I was about to nudge Poppy to offer some help to the boy, Weasley surprises me. The red-headed youngster recognises at the same moment as I did that Potter is struggling, and offers his arm without a second of hesitation. Potter looks at him warily, as if unsure what to do with the proffered arm.

"Take it for pity's sake, Harry. It's not going to bite you or anything," I had to smile at how much of Molly I could hear in that exasperated statement but Potter did tentatively reach out to take the support Weasley was offering. Whether they turned out to be trouble makers or not it looked like Potter had found himself at least one true friend here who wasn't just interested in his scar. A friend with a huge family and a mother with an instinct to 'adopt' and 'rescue' the lost and helpless. This could be a useful friendship indeed for the Boy Who Lived.

My thoughts stopped as we reached the Hospital Wing and Poppy unceremoniously put Potter on one of the beds and started running her diagnostic spells. I could tell by the way her eyebrows started to knot and lips purse that she was not in any way impressed by what she was finding out. Potter was still shivering slightly under the cloak which he'd wrapped around him like a blanket and leaned heavily against the back of the bed without looking at any of us.

"Professor, a word please?" I had no doubt that Poppy was not actually asking me anything; that was an iron-clad order expressed in a moderately deferential manner. I followed her to the office without hesitation and the door was barely closed when she spoke, the anger in her voice mirroring how I felt.

"Where has that boy been staying for the past ten years, Minerva?" I had rarely heard Poppy angry. She always accepts that children are children and fixes the results rather than trying to analyse or discipline, she said to me once that she saw no reason for her to get involved in that side of managing the students. There were Heads of Houses for that; she was there to get them back to a state of health whatever they'd managed to do unless she truly believed there was a significant threat to them or to anyone else. Judging by the look in the other woman's eyes now though, there was a fair chance that Poppy herself might be a threat to the muggles if she could get her hands on them.

"Was I right to be concerned then?" I side-step the question neatly. I've been friends with Poppy for many years now, I have no wish to see her in trouble with the Ministry for doing something she might later regret.

"Concerned!? Concerned, Minerva?" our medi-witch was almost growling. "I am frankly astonished that the boy made it through the feast as far as he did without collapsing. He should have been brought to me as soon as he walked through those doors, not when Severus of all people came to collect me. How I didn't see it immediately I don't know. You should have been more than just 'concerned'!"

I close my eyes, suddenly more tired than I've felt in years. Once again, things I should have done.

"I didn't know Poppy. I thought I must be mistaken. It was only when Severus…" I break off with a sigh. "What's the report then?"

"I haven't seen a child this bad in years, Minerva." Poppy spoke clearly and concisely. "That includes the years where we had students coming in from families who simply couldn't afford to feed them. The boy is severely malnourished, anaemic, shows signs of scurvy which we haven't had in decades and is so underweight he barely reads on the charts. If we're lucky we may be able to combat some of the height issues, but he is always going to be small for his age."

I was leaning heavily against the door of Poppy's office, I'm not sure I'd be able to support myself any other way. Poppy is right, this is worse than even I thought.

"There's more," the medi-witch continues mercilessly. "There are multiple old breaks and fractures, most of which have healed fine and none of which should cause any huge amount of concern in the future if I leave them as they currently stand. The majority of the breaks are in the ribcage area and there are a couple of more recent ones which will be causing substantial discomfort at the moment." She looks at me for a long, long moment. "Minerva, you know as well as I do that no child regularly breaks ribs on their own. A boisterous child might break a couple of limbs or fingers as they go about, but not ribs. Someone did this too him."

"And his leg?"

"The least of our worries. A turned ankle. I can have that at least sorted in seconds. The rest will take substantially more time. And that doesn't take into account any psychological damage or issues that he may have. And if this has been going on for anywhere near as long as I fear it might have, it will have had a serious effect on him. You are going to have to treat the boy very carefully, Minerva. If you don't you could break him."

"I am going to kill that man," I growl with almost as much venom as Severus can include.

"Who?" Poppy's eyes glinted dangerously. She clearly thought I was referring to Potter's relatives.

"Albus bloody Dumbledore!" I snap out regardless of the shock on Poppy's face. "I am going to kill the damnable man."

"Minerva…" Poppy was clearly unsure as to what was going on. Nobody spoke that way about Albus, particularly not the deputy head mistress.

"I trusted him! I trusted him to know what he was doing. I let him leave the boy with those muggles and I did absolutely nothing! How could he have let this happen!?" I force myself to calm down. "How long before the boy can have a normal schedule?"

Poppy looks relieved at my return to a world where she has answers. "I'll probably have to keep him in for at least a week before he can start doing classes with the other students, but even then he is likely to get very tired and disorientated much more quickly than the others. If he's pushed too much early on, the result will simply be him collapsing and ending up back with me. It's going to have to be a gentle process of building his strength up. Once that's been done I can look at re-fixing the breaks that could do with it, but that isn't urgent. And if I find out he's been on a broom without my say so, I will have Madam Hooch's head on a pole."

A brief further discussion gave me an idea of what Poppy was going to do next and we went to deal with the concerned Weasley and Potter. It was clear Potter had fallen asleep whilst we had been discussing him, but Weasley was still there. Poppy told him the feast ought to have finished and he would be expected in his dormitory by now and the boy started to leave. Part way to the door he turned back nervously.

"Madam Pomfrey? Will Harry be ok?"

"Nothing here that I can't fix." Our medi-witch smiled at the anxious first-year. "Off with you now, Potter needs to rest. You can visit him tomorrow."

The dismissal could count for me as well. Now that the feast had finished I had somewhere I had to be. Namely Albus Dumbledore's office. Possibly a trip to see Severus first. And if Albus doesn't have a remarkably good explanation for this there will be hell to pay.

There might well be hell to pay regardless with the mood that I'm in.


	4. The Snake and the Lion

Many thanks for the reviews. RebelliousOne - Dumbledore getting hell should be in the next chapter. Randver - yep, Minerva with a backbone that she should have had in canon considering her interactions with other characters. And yes, I like Ron; wasn't missing him out! Raz - other students would still be milling around coming back from the feast, it wouldn't be difficult to track down the Gryffindor tower.

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**Chapter 4: The Lion and the Snake**

It didn't take long for me to make my way down to the dungeons, and with the mood I was in students practically fell over themselves in order to get out of my way. The dungeons are not a place I would usually frequent no matter what the occasion, let alone on the first day of term, but needs must. If I could get Severus on side then I would have a valuable and powerful ally, particularly considering his well noted hatred for all things Potter or Black. Unfortunately that very same hatred is what will make this task so much harder. But at the very least Poppy has insisted that Potter is treated carefully and gently and if Severus isn't dealt with that will never happen. Even if I have no luck gaining him as an ally, that particular snake still needs to be de-fanged.

"Minerva," Severus greeted me with his customary grimace. "It has been a significant period of time since you last deigned to grace my stone floors. I do hope this has nothing to do with our latest Potter incarnation or the scene you caused in the Great Hall this evening. I would so hate to spoil what has been an enjoyable evening."

"Unfortunately Severus, you have deduced correctly on both counts." I look my younger colleague straight in the eye, refusing to flinch at his clear displeasure. I have seen worse. "Could we step inside please? This is a conversation I would prefer to prevent from reaching the wrong ears."

He raised an eyebrow but stepped backwards, waving an arm backwards causing his robes to billow as he did so. If there is one thing I can say about Severus, it's that he certainly has a flair for the dramatic.

"I have a set of exceptionally complex and time limited potions to brew for Poppy before the week is out, Minerva, so I would much obliged if we could get this unpleasantness out of the way as quickly as possible. Even if I did not have work to be getting on with, I would still have many better things to do with my time than discuss Potter's spawn. Frankly, there are few things lower on my list of priorities."

That was about the response I had expected so I refrained from rolling my eyes at how predictable the man is. Instead I fixed him with the glare I have patented over the decades of teaching hormonal and reckless teenagers. The glare that even stops the Weasley twins in their tracks.

"Severus, they have beaten him hard enough to break bones," I state bluntly. Now is not the time for tact and subtlety. If I am to have Severus on side he first has to understand exactly what the problem is. Unfortunately to understand he has to hear, so I have to be brutal enough to make him listen and force him to take notice. "He is stunted and so malnourished it is going to take Poppy weeks to get him anywhere near approaching what would be considered safe and healthy. His weight is so low it's almost off the scales. In short, if he were not magical he would probably not be alive."

Severus is listening to me, there's that look in his eyes that means he doesn't want to hear what you're saying, but he can't help himself. He hates Potter with a loathing that the rest of us have no hope of ever comprehending, but if there is one thing he hates more it's a broken child. Over the years I've watched him deal with some of the more vicious pureblood families of his Slytherin's and it is not a pretty sight. But he gets results. Not one of his young charges is hurt more than once whilst under his not-so tender care. He protects them; they repay him by trusting him to the end of the world. I have often wondered where this sympathy for the wounded child comes from, such an unusual sympathy in such a cold and distant man, but I have never asked. It has never been my place to ask.

"How long for?" The sneer is still firmly fixed on his face, but the simple fact that he has asked the question means that I have him. I actually have a chance.

"I don't know," I answer honestly. The other thing Severus hates are those who try to dissemble, luckily I have the same hatred for that. "But the boy walked into the Great Hall with three broken ribs, a badly turned ankle and so weak he shouldn't have been able to stand. He didn't make a sound of protest or think to ask for help. What does that say to you, Severus?"

Severus looks at me and there's a definite spark of anger in those penetrating dark eyes of his.

"This is normal for him…" He answers softly.

He gets it. Now for the real test.

"Severus, I left Lily's son on her sister's doorstep that night. I trusted Alb…"

"Her sister?" There is suddenly a slightly dangerous edge to the younger man's voice despite him not having raised it and I have to persuade myself not to step backwards. "Petunia Evans? You left Lily's child on that woman's doorstep?"

"Petunia Dursley by then, but yes…"

"You left a child on the doorstep of a woman who hated Lily, hated magic, hated anything 'abnormal' that she couldn't fit into her neat and ordered world view?" Did I say 'slightly dangerous' edge to his voice? That might have been an understatement in retrospect. "On the night Lily died, you left her only child on that doorstep and you didn't even think to ring the doorbell? It didn't occur to either of you to check whether they were willing to raise another child!?"

The sneer that I am so used to has vanished, replaced by an almost feral snarl. I fear he is scarcely one breath of control away from pulling his wand on me. I'd intended to get his attention and have certainly succeeded. Whether I leave this room in one piece is another issue entirely. That would fuel the student gossip mill further; not only does the Head of Gryffindor pull the Boy Who Lived out of the welcoming feast but on the same evening is seen being hexed backwards out of the Head of Slytherin's chambers.

"I trusted Albus. He left a letter to…"

"Then Albus is a god damn fool!" I've heard Severus shout many a time, usually at my Gryffindor's whether or not they've melted a cauldron, but I don't believe I have ever heard such intensity from him. He is a master of many things, one of them occlumency so keeps his emotions tightly under check, but the rage that is breaking off him in waves now is terrifying in its intensity. "Two of the greatest minds in wizarding history and neither of you thought to use the doorbell!?"

The conversation was quickly spiralling out of control. I had to contain it somehow.

"Severus, I need your help." That quiet pronouncement lingers between us for a long moment as he glares at me. "I fear I have made a grave mistake and I don't know what to do now. Please, I need your help." Minerva McGonagall begging for help. Wonders will never cease. "I trust Albus with my life. I always have. But now, I don't know whether he didn't know or…"

"If he didn't care." Severus finishes for bluntly me when I falter.

"No… more than that Severus. If this is actually somehow what he … intended." I stumble to a halt, feeling deeply unsettled in a way that I haven't been since that night ten years ago. This is Albus I am speaking about. Albus, the leader we have all followed, the mastermind behind the fight against You-Know-Who, the leader of what is good and righteous.

But Severus seems to have read more into my words than I had intended as he has started pacing the floor muttering to himself. I make out the words 'he wouldn't dare' and a series of curses before interrupting.

"Severus, what is going on?"

The man that looks back at me now is different again. No longer the snide Potions Master or the volcano of anger from a couple of minutes ago. In front of me now is the wounded and weary spy from all those years ago.

"The prophecy," he mutters. "Did Albus ever mention the prophecy to you?"

Now I'm really confused. "What prophecy?"

"The Potter prophecy." It says how disturbed the man is that he doesn't spit the name Potter like he usually would. He looks up at me sharply. "He's never mentioned it to you?"

I shake my head.

"I don't know the entirety of it, but what I know is as follows: _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies._ There is more, but I don't have that knowledge."

"Severus, what are you going on about? I'm talking about Potter now, not ten years ago." It's unlike him to go off on tangents. "You-Know-Who is gone. The prophecy is fulfilled." But the amount of pain in Severus' eyes stops me short.

"No, he's not. He's a shadow of himself but he is not gone." I look at the man in absolute disbelief. "Trust me Minerva, sources say he is currently hiding in Albania but how long he'll stay there is another matter entirely. He is going to come back and when he does…that is when the prophecy will be fulfilled. That is when the Potter boy will be of most use."

"What are you saying?" I whisper. I think I know exactly what he's saying, but I cannot believe Albus would sink that low. I cannot.

"Potter is a pawn in the great Albus Dumbledore's tapestry of the future unfolding. He's a pawn now and he was a pawn ten years ago when he was left on the doorstep of a woman known to hate everything about the magical world." Once again he looks straight at me before speaking again. "Albus is grooming him. Potter is to be his own superstar weapon but for that to happen he has to be broken first. Albus knew. He more than knew. He orchestrated it."

There is a long silence after Severus' last words. Then finally.

"I'll help you, Minerva. Not for you or for Potter though. For the memory of Lily that was defiled the moment her son was left with those monsters."

I barely recognise my voice when I can speak. It's harsh and guttural.

"I'm going there now. Will you join me?"

"It will be my pleasure. I assume this is not going to be a pleasant evening get together?"

I glare at him.

"You would assume correctly. I am going to wring the manipulative buffoon's neck and smile whilst I do so."


	5. A Tactical Ambush

Many thanks to the reviewers - to those who suggested that the other Heads of Houses needed to be involved I decided you are completely correct...apologies to RebelliousOne though as setting that up means the confrontation is being held back one chapter. This is already quite a mammoth chapter and to do the confrontation justice it couldn't just be tacked in on the end. Hopefully, you will enjoy.

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**Chapter 5: A Tactical Ambush**

To say I am furious is potentially the understatement of the century. The sheer minded manipulations and schemes of that man are beyond belief. You don't treat a one year old child as a pawn in a game they have no hope of comprehending no matter what your intentions or reasoning. Potter was a child, still is a child, and he has been completely defenceless against the machinations of a manipulative old fool. A fool I have trusted my entire life. But if there is one thing I am certain of it's that Potter is not defenceless anymore. There is no way I will let one of my own be broken and played as if he is a sacrificial lamb. He is not a chess piece to be used at someone else's whim, I will not allow him to be held at anyone else's mercy. Even if that means going against Albus. Whilst Potter is in my care the game stops. I cannot believe that Albus not only let this happen, but actually orchestrated the entire thing. Albus, the solid rock of my existence.

"Minerva, stop," Severus' voice resounds clearly through the stone corridor as I stride furiously on. "What exactly are you planning on doing?"

As if he even needs to ask.

"I am planning on getting some answers," I respond in a tone which could freeze the Weasley twins in place, let alone mere ice. "If at the same time I manage to shake some sense into the old fool's empty skull then all the better. If I succeed in throttling the meddling coot then this will be considered a highly successful venture."

"I will rephrase my question, Minerva," there is a definite sense of exasperation in the younger mans tone. "Shake off the damned Gryffindor pride for one second and think." He's moved in front of me, effectively stopping my progress forwards unless I wish to knock the man over. Considering I have only just gained him as an unlikely ally, that probably wouldn't be a wise move. "What exactly are you hoping to gain?"

Despite my glare, I can see where he is coming from but he continues before I can respond.

"It is all well and good barging in there like a lioness protecting your cubs Minerva, but do you not think Albus might expect that after your stunt in the Great Hall?" His usual drawl is almost amused. "You are well within your rights to protect the Potter boy and well within your rights to be furious, but do you not think you are being a tad predictable? We all know that Lily was one of your favourites when they were in school and that the pair of them became almost like surrogate children to you before they died. I know you will protect any of your House as surely as I protect mine, but is there anything to be gained in doing what Albus expects? What do you hope to achieve?"

The amusement has vanished, replaced by a tone I have never heard before. It is the tone of the man who stands in front of the Dark Lord and reports without fear or hesitation. It is the tone of a man who has nothing left to fear even death itself, and will do anything to achieve his aims. His eyes fasten onto mine as he continues.

"If we barge into Albus' office now there is every chance we will leave with empty words and hollow promises at best. If I am right in my deductions then Albus will be planning for this confrontation. He knows you will charge up to his office full of righteous anger and he will play you like a kitten with a piece of string. You will be left batting baubles around your office." I'm paying too much attention to him to be offended by his frank analysis. "Do you want words or action Minerva? How far are you willing to go to protect Harry Potter?"

As he spoke, my brain had caught up with my anger and I was starting to grasp the reality of the situation we found ourselves in. Severus is right. We are so used to being chess pieces for Albus on a gigantic board only he can see; we have given him decades of practice in manipulating the emotions and actions of others. We've allowed him to dictate our actions since before even Grindelwald. The great Albus points in a direction and we willingly move to our next square regardless of what sacrifice that involves. We are his pawns, his knights and his bishops. I have a nasty suspicion that I am his Queen, or at least one of them; powerful enough to send throughout the board but valuable enough to keep close and protected. I am clearly one of the lucky ones.

And despite his relative youth, Severus is right. It really shouldn't surprise me so much. I reacted with the blind fury of the lioness who will do anything to protect her cubs; I did not consult my inner raven. He is thinking as the snake and the spy he was all those years ago whilst preserving his ferocity and protectiveness. He has kept a level head. I realise I have been silent for too long and our Potions Masters eyes are still on me, carefully analysing my reactions. When I speak again my voice is softer and I can actually see some of the tension leave the other man's shoulders.

"You more than anyone know how far I will go to protect any of my students, Severus. Lily's son is no exception to that rule." Now I look at him penetratively. "So, you clearly have a plan. What would you suggest?"

I thought I had seen everything, it appears I was wrong. The sight of Severus Snape smiling is an image that may haunt my nightmares for many years to come. It was not a pleasant smile. It was the smile of a careful and wary predator who has discovered a way to get to its prey. It sent shivers down my spine.

"I would suggest a three pronged approach, Minerva," with the exception of the use of my given name he almost sounded like a student offering a solution to a particularly tricky concept in class. That's the problem with having taught your colleagues; I found myself nodding permission at him to continue as a more natural smirk quirked the corners of his mouth. "The primary aim is to remove the boy from the muggles, the secondary aim is to prove to Albus that he is not infallible and can be challenged…" he stopped for a second with that strange smile again "…our third objective is to 'wring the manipulative buffoon's neck and smile whilst we do so'."

I had to smile at his rather apt and almost perfect mimicry of my previous outburst.

"You have correctly assessed and isolated the objectives of this exercise," for a moment we had stepped back in time, effortlessly taking the role of Professor and student albeit with the roles somewhat reversed. "Now, how would you suggest we achieve these objectives?"

That smile again.

"I would firstly suggest that we do not attempt to approach our esteemed Headmaster until we have set in motion some basic precautionary measures." I raised my eyebrow at him, almost enjoying this game. "The first precaution I would suggest is that you approach Poppy, gain a full written assessment of the boy's state of health then write a formal request to Amelia Bones regarding the immediate removal of guardianship from the relatives. In light of the evidence at hand I have no doubt she will act quickly and forcibly." He's right about that as well; Amelia was a force to be reckoned with as a student, let alone as Head of Magical Law Enforcement.

"The second precaution I would suggest is that both of us write down the events of the last twenty four hours, independent of each other and then entrust a copy to someone we trust. They can then be opened if we become inconveniently indisposed or have an odd lapse of memory regarding our dealings with Potter."

His last word was spat with the usual amount of venom Severus reserved for his childhood vendetta but that isn't why I am staring at him in complete disbelief and horror. Surely Albus wouldn't…he couldn't…

Severus read my face perfectly.

"I am not by any means suggesting that Albus will resort to such measures," he continued smoothly. "I am merely remarking on the precautions I would put in place considering the power of the wizard we are proposing to confront." I forgot he has spent years dealing with powerful wizards much more nefarious than Albus could ever hope to be. "For you I would suggest Augusta Longbottom or Remus Lupin; actually – both." Again he catches my clear confusion and expands.

"Think Minerva," now I am the berated student, "Augusta is a high standing member of the wizarding community who is strong and neutral. Remus, whatever my personal feelings towards the furball, he has a long standing connection with Potter and will care for the child as his own cub. Those two together would be a formidable foe. For myself…" and here Severus hesitates for the first time, "I would suggest Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley.

"What!?" I'm not sure which I'm more shocked by. The fact that he even thought of Arthur or that he would trust Lucius with such information. For the first time he seems uncertain and again he hesitates before continuing.

"Malfoy is one of my closest…'friends' and allies." The stress he placed on the word friends was impossible to miss. "To not approach him would be suspicious at the very least, at worst potentially more dangerous in the future. Everyone saw us speaking together in the Great Hall and if I am not mistaken this confrontation will soon be one of Hogwarts famous 'secrets'…"

"…so complete a secret that naturally the whole school will know…" I finish with one of Albus' favourite sayings.

"Exactly," the patented Severus smirk is firmly back in place. "I have to approach Lucius, to not do so would have unforeseeable consequences. Weasley, I … I trust that he will do what is best for the child and if he doesn't his wife certainly will." I have to smile at Severus' obvious consternation with what he is admitting. "I am not liked by either and for good reason, but they grudgingly trust me. And they will care. I cannot think of anyone more suitable."

Severus now strongly resembles a stuffed turkey so I rescue him by pushing the conversation forwards.

"And your third approach to the issue?" I ask pointedly.

Here Severus really does smile and I actually feel my blood run cold. This smile actively radiates malice.

"The third precaution I would suggest will require a culminative effort," he seemed to bite back the word 'Professor' as we fell back into our roles. Again I nod. "I would suggest we affix our House Seals to a confidential document sent to Filius and Pomona. Within this document I would include that all Heads of Houses are required to attend the Staff Room at noon tomorrow. I would also write that it is of paramount importance that this is not mentioned aloud, even to one of the other Heads." I am now watching Severus with open appreciation. "It should also be noted that formal robes are required and House Seals are to be worn. From there we will approach Albus."

With that Severus seems to have finished. I watched him for a second as his dark eyes actually sparkled and I realised how rare it is that we actually give him the chance to actually scheme. And what a waste that is. The man is a master mind.

"Severus, that is absolutely brilliant," I breathe.

He bows to me. He actually bows. Sardonically I will admit, but still.

"Thank you, Minerva," he responds in a snide fashion. "I have occasionally been accused of genius in my time. I would suggest we start to get organised as this will take some preparation."

Of that he is right. But it will be more than worth it. We're about to ambush the greatest wizard of all time with a plan not even the Mauraders could have rivalled in their day.

Albus will rue the day he was ever born.


	6. The Lion's Den

Many thanks for all the reviews; finally the Dumbledore confrontation is here. Apologies for the delay - Christmas is a bit of a killer for completing tricky writing scenes. Hopefully you enjoy.

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**Chapter 6: The Lion's Den**

I am pacing my personal quarters impatiently. All of the preparation is complete and now I must wait. Something I am not very good at as Severus is more than aware. But at least my waiting has not been entirely unprofitable, even if it has been frustrating. Augusta replied to my owl almost immediately, her missive was careful and controlled as she accepted the responsibility I had asked of her. There were slight signs of concern but they were well masked behind her usual stern demeanour.

Amelia took slightly longer to respond but that was to be expected considering the nature of my request. I deliberately sent my personal owl to attract attention, and Pantherus certainly knew how to attract attention, but even then the formal measures had to be dealt with. The eventual response was favourable and requested further information, which I provided. The resultant fireplace head of our Head of Magical Law Enforcement was an interesting experience to say the least. I have had dealings with Amelia on several previous occasions, but I have never seen the woman spitting pure flames of fury. Having made it very clear that Albus is the only reason Potter has been staying with his relatives, and that we would be confronting him shortly, Amelia left. It would however be no great surprise if the great and infallible wizard received a few howlers come tomorrow morning. Unfortunately I fear, even as angry as she currently is, Amelia probably has more common sense than sending a howler to coincide with breakfast in the Great Hall. One can hope though.

Remus' response had to be the best out of the lot though; barely restrained hysteria is probably the most efficient description. I was rather grateful for Hogwarts anti-apparition wards as otherwise there was every chance the man would have been in my office having an apoplexy. But finally, after hours of watching the clock it's time. It's half past eleven and I can finally move. The corridors are more or less deserted as I stride through them, with the exception of a couple of upper years with free periods. I find myself at the Staff Room well before noon and I'm not surprised to see Filius is already waiting there, reading a book that is almost as large as he is. His eyes flick up to mine as I walk through the door and he carefully book-marks the tome that he's reading before standing to greet me.

"Ah, I was hoping you would arrive early, Minerva," his eyes are drilling into mine and there is no humour in his tone.

Once again I am reminded how often people underestimate Hogwarts smallest professor; you see his smile and size and forget that behind the cheerful face is one of the best wizards to have come out of Ravenclaw. A Ravenclaw to the bone but with distinctive snakelike qualities when pushed; a Slythenclaw on occasions if you wish. His size alone means that he has had to be to survive – he is a duelling champion for a reason but can fence words with an equal amount of skill.

"Filius," I acknowledge him gravely, waiting for what comes next.

He looks at me sternly over his glasses before responding.

"What's wrong with Potter?"

"No beating around the bush then Filius?" I comment mildly. "I should have known you out of everyone would pick up the signs."

"It wasn't overly difficult, Minerva," he reproaches me. "I receive a formal summons from the two Heads of Houses who are at each others throats twenty four hours a day on the first day of term? You drag the boy out of the Great Hall after previously speaking to Severus? Potter doesn't arrive in morning lessons and the youngest Weasley is acting like a human shield when anyone even mentions him? It's a good job they can't do offensive magic yet otherwise we might have had a first year Slytherin in the Hospital Wing as well."

Filius waves the official summons that Severus and I had drawn up last night at me.

"I believe I will keep this as a permanent reminder that the Snake and the Lion can indeed work together in harmony, rather than simply swiping at each other. But the fact that you and Severus are working together and have summoned all the Heads of Houses using your official House Seals?" He looks at me for a long second. "If this is not related to why the Boy Who Lived is currently in Poppy's care rather than the Gryffindor common-room, I am Rowena Ravenclaw herself!"

I hesitate before responding unsure of how much to say at this point.

"You are, of course, completely correct Filius," I say carefully. "This does indeed revolve around Potter, but I would prefer to wait for Severus to be present before speaking any further. This is a rather sensitive matter."

"We're going to speak to Albus, aren't we?" He ignores my request, and the grave tone in his voice is a clear indication that he knows more than I had given credit for. "For you to require all four House Seals present then we must be going to Albus. For you to require absolute secrecy..." there's a hesitation and I am certain that he changes what he was about to say, "...Albus doesn't know."

"Congratulations Filius," the snide drawl from a corner of the room takes us both by surprise. "You have correctly put together the facts and somehow that Ravenclaw brain of yours has even managed to put them in more or less the correct order."

"Severus," I exclaim as Filius looks daggers at our resident bat of the dungeons, "I didn't hear you come in."

"That was the intention." How the man manages to make such a simple sentence sound quite so patronising is beyond me. But he looks again at Filius. "You are correct in all but one crucial matter. We are not just going to Albus, we are confronting Albus." The lack of surprise in the Ravenclaw's face doesn't shock me too much. Severus continues. "You wish to know why you have been summoned?" Filius nods sharply. "And you realise that if we furnish your need for knowledge then you will be expected to contribute to this confrontation rather than being a simple witness?"

Filius once again shows how unwise it is to underestimate him as his eyes turn cold and Severus' robes billow forcibly backwards despite the fact that he holds no wand nor uttered an incantation.

"If something has happened to young Mister Potter, I consider it both my honour and my duty," he remarked smoothly as Severus regained his balance.

"I would agree," the bulky figure of Pomona bustled into the room. "You have called us all together. I would appreciate knowing why."

Severus nodded silently before handing each of us a piece of parchment which I immediately recognised as the medical assessment Poppy had compiled. Both of us watch in silence as Filius and Pomona read and digest what is on that sheet; their expressions saying more than words could ever hope to.

"Who?" Filius is the first to speak and there is a cold fury to his voice that I did not believe him capable of. His usual high pitched tenor has dropped to a pitch that Severus' would be proud of.

"The boys legal guardians," Severus' snarl cuts straight across the sudden atmosphere of the room with clear displeasure. "The guardians Albus left him with..."

"...the guardians Albus has every intention of continuing to leave the boy with," I interrupt in what would be best described as a hiss. My talk with Amelia had been most enlightening.

"But...how could this happen!?" Pomona's distress was clear.

"Perhaps 'how' is not the question we should be asking," Filius gives me a sharp glance. "Nothing Albus does is without reason. Perhaps the question ought to be 'why''"?

"You can't be suggesting that Albus..." the desperate hope in Pomona's voice is heartbreaking. "He wouldn't..."

Severus' response was brutal.

"You may be a Hufflepuff but that does not stop you from using the brain you were given. Albus knew before he left that child on a muggle doorstep on a freezing November night..."

"He did what!?" Both Heads of House look like they could choke.

"Albus knew when **we **left a one year old child that his guardians were not suitable," ignoring Pomona's spluttered exclamations I continue the tale. "We left Potter there, we knew that Petunia hates magic. I assumed that due to the high rates of accidental magic that they'd have been checks made. I was wrong."

There's a long silence before Pomona speaks.

"He cannot go back to that house."

There is unanimous agreement to that statement.

"I believe the password is currently 'Cockroach clusters," Filius commented grimly.

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And so we found ourselves trudging up the stairs to Albus' office. Once again I curse the design of this castle and whoever decided we required so many steps. Clearly they weren't banking on old bones having to struggle up them. Reaching the top I don't bother rapping on the door, instead simply walk right through.

"Good afternoon, Minerva," Albus smiles at me benignly with that twinkle as I enter, clearly Severus was right. Coming alone would have been foolish. "I was expecting you ye-"

"Afternoon Albus," the smile has disappeared as the other three Heads of House stride into the room.

"Severus, Filius, Pomona," he nods to each one in turn. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"You know exactly why we are here," I snap. "The current guardianship of one young Mister Potter."

Albus smiles at me. He actually has the gall to smile at me.

"The guardianship of Mister Potter is strongly reinforced by the highly advanced magical wards I placed on the Dursley home..."

Filius interrupts which clearly takes Albus by surprise. He'd expected arguments to come from me, not to be facing a united front of irate Heads.

"As a master of charms and other protective measures, it would be fitting if you could explain to me exactly what wards you have used," his tone could freeze hell over. "There are many measures that could be used at any property in Britain, so what wards are so important that you are willing to employ them at the cost of a child's well-being?"

The rage in our charms masters voice is unmistakable and from the way Albus looks between us it is clear he has noticed it as well. Before he can respond however, Severus steps forwards with the medical report.

"A child so malnourished as to be off the charts?" He slaps the report into Albus' hands. "A child presenting with severe anaemia and signs of scurvy? A child with broken bones? A child who is stunted and would not be alive were it not for his magic?" The last section is spat out venomously but he looks to Filius and Pomona for a second.

"Filius," he calls sharply and the Head of Ravenclaw looks to him. "Would you allow guardianship to continue when there are clear signs of abuse as shown in the medical record you hold?"

I'm looking at Albus who is starting to look distinctly ambushed. This is clearly not going as he had anticipated.

"No. I would not," Filius responded bluntly. "And with the evidence in hand, I would be informing the Head of Magical Law Enforcement to determine whether official measures can be implemented or whether it needs to go to the non-magical authorities."

"Pomona?" The lazy gesture he makes shows clearly how little resistance Severus expects.

"That child has been beaten repeatedly." There's a hard glaze to her eyes that even Albus flinches away from. "I will not have it. He will not be returning to that...place."

There is no doubt about it now; Albus is starting to look like a cornered animal. I probably shouldn't take such glee from that, but I can't bring myself to care.

"Let's slow down and discuss this, shall we?" The twinkle is nowhere to be seen. "I left Mister Potter with Petunia and her husband because she willingly sealed the charms that I placed upon the house. For full protection, the boy needed to be with blood relatives. Whilst he is there he cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort or his followers. They cannot find him or hurt him. I kept the boy alive!"

"At what cost!?" surprisingly the outburst has come from Pomona and all heads jerk to her for a second before Severus speaks out. He is calmer than Pomona, but so much more dangerous.

"Pomona is right. What good is it to protect the boy from the Dark Lord when you neglect to protect him from the very people who are supposed to love him?"

"Severus, I thought you of everyone would understand why it was nec-" the sorrow in Albus' tone sounds genuine, but I don't know what to believe anymore. Clearly Severus is of the same mindset.

"Save it!" The snarl that erupts from our Potions Masters lips is savage. "You left one child alone in the hands of his father to be beaten and humiliated. You didn't care how many beatings he got or how often he cried. The result was a Death Eater come spy."

I can't restrain my gasp, Severus never speaks of his past, even in passing. Now perhaps I know why. Glancing at our other two Heads, I find identical expressions of shock on both their faces. Albus doesn't look much better, he's faintly ashen and leaning on his desk. Unfortunately, Severus isn't finished.

"You left another child alone in a muggle orphanage with no friends or support when you knew he hated the place with a passion." Now I'm confused. "He became a bully to survive and you could have saved him from himself, but once more chose to ignore the cries of a hurting child. The result was one Tom Riddle, a Dark Lord with an abiding hatred of Albus Dumbledore; the great and mighty leader of light who could have helped him but chose not to."

There is utter silence in the room now, I barely dare breathe. The look in Albus' eyes is beyond what I have ever seen before as Severus whirls on us. I have respected and looked up to Albus for a long time, but I have never been given cause to fear him. Until now.

"Have you never wondered at the name?" There is almost a look of disappointment on the younger man's face as he stares at us.

With a theatrical twirl of his wand the words 'I am Lord Voldemort' appeared in the air in front of us causing horrified gasps. With a snarl he pulls his left sleeve up exposing the Dark Mark imprinted there before flicking his wand aggressively and the letters rearrange themselves before our eyes; 'Tom Marvelo Riddle'.

"They are the same person!" He turns back to Albus. "You failed the Dark Lord, you failed the Death Eater and now you are about to fail the Boy Who Lived. You will not fail another child, Albus, that I promise you. Whether you want a pawn in your games or a sacrificial lamb, I find myself at the end of my patience. I owe Lily more than that."

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

The shout takes me by surprise, particularly since Severus has not reached for his wand.

"Not so fast, Albus," the snarl comes from an unexpected quarter and I turn to find our dwarf professor holding two wands and in a full duelling stance. Pomona has also drawn her wand but is looking highly unsure and it suddenly hits me that the second wand Filius is holding belongs to Albus. Albus was just disarmed. This takes a second to process. Albus was just disarmed. It takes all my effort to keep my voice steady.

"Would you care to explain why one of your own staff felt the need to disarm you, Albus?" My tone is cold but I can't hide how deeply unsettled I am.

Filius responds before Albus can. He doesn't lower his wand.

"Albus drew first. I cast quicker." It is unusual to get such short answers from the usually jovial man. I send him a questioning glance. "I do not know what he was about to cast, but I believe Severus would have felt the effects. I chose to pre-empt the issue."

"I believe I brought a few truths into the open that Albus would have preferred to keep quiet," the mocking drawl from Severus is merciless. "I stand by what I said. I expected an arrogant copy of James Potter to walk into the Halls yesterday, not a malnourished and abused wreck. He will not go back to the Dursley's."

"I believe this discussion is over," I state coldly. "I will be conversing with Amelia Bones regarding living conditions for Potter, you will not have any further input in the child's care."

Drawing out a document from my robes I put it on the table.

"If all Heads of Houses would please affix their Seals to this document it will be legally binding. Albus, you can choose not to affix the School Seal if you wish. The four House Seals are enough to ensure we have agreed the Dursley's will be dealt with according to what measures Amelia Bones discovers and appropriate accommodation will be found for Potter before the end of the year. Until then he can stay at Hogwarts."

Without saying a word I push my Seal onto the document, closely followed by Filius, Pomona and Severus. I create copies for each party and start to leave the room. Once outside the room I turn to the other Heads of House.

"Well, that went well."


	7. Of Rules and Questions

Many thanks to everyone who reviewed, it's much appreciated. The couple of points about Dumbledore not being responsible for Tom are noted however from Severus' perspective it would be easy to pair together Death Eater and Dark Lord being a direct result of mishandling from the school - Dippet not being around to blame anymore, Dumbledore is a logical extension for the blame. A hacked off Snape doesn't necessarily make the correct conclusion at all points!

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**Chapter 7: Of Rules and Questions**

To say that the mood at the High Table is tense would be the understatement of the century. Pomona's barely talking, Filius is looking anywhere but at Albus and I have to admit, I'm not much better. The atmosphere has already spread to the rest of the table and the entirety of the staff is on edge. Severus is just glaring at everyone, but there's nothing new about that at least. He has managed to somehow notch it up a fraction and even his Slytherin's are looking at him nervously. I fear Gryffindor may be losing a fair few points today and if he's got Longbottom in his classes at any point in the near future then God help us all. The situation is not helped by the fact that Potter's absence has been noted and remarked on by both staff and student. Weasley appears to be running decent interference with the students, but the staff are becoming bothersome with the constant questions. Hagrid in particular approaches me at least twice a day; I know he cares deeply about the Potter boy, that doesn't stop his constant pestering and requests from fraying on my nerves.

I do have to admit that I have been rather impressed by the actions of the youngest Weasley though. After having spent the last several years teaching the Weasley twins and dealing with what they have pulled in their time here, I was dreading the arrival of the latest member of the clan. He's surprised me though. Numerous teachers have reported to me that the boy has been meticulous in taking notes and assignments for Potter, stating that he was worried on the train that he wouldn't been able to keep up and not being able to attend classes wouldn't help. Pomona isn't the only teacher to have given him points for his dedication and loyalty, even Severus stated that although he is an incompetent dunderhead he appears to have mitigating factors. From Severus about one of my young lions that is high praise indeed. I must ensure his brothers never find out about that, the poor lad would never live it down. On the other hand Longbottom was described as a clumsy fool with less ability than a flobberworm, so I guess it evens out. Although, having set an unprecedented record for melting cauldrons so far, I can't really fault Severus.

I've made a particular point about ensuring that I visit Potter on a daily basis so on leaving the Great Hall that was the first place I went. I was pleasantly surprised by the fact that Potter was awake and had a book in front of him. On previous occasions he's been fast asleep.

"Mister Potter, what are you reading?" I say as I walk up to his bed.

To my shock his eyes fly up to mine and I'm horrified at the terror that has suffused his face. He looks at the book frantically, desperately moving his hands to try and cover it up.

"I'm sorry," he stuttered. "I didn't mean to..."

"Potter, you have nothing to apologise for," moving slowly towards the boy I gently move his hands away from the book, trying to ignore the flinch that he gives at the contact. It's Arsenius Jigger's _Magical Drafts and Potions_. "I'm glad to see you awake and using your time so productively. I'm sure Professor Snape would be pleased to see an interest in his class as well."

Again those startlingly green eyes fly back up to meet my own before darting down quickly, but mixed with the fear is a clear sense of confusion.

"But, I'm not allowed..." he stutters. "It's one of the rules... I can't break the rules..."

He's tucked himself against the bedpost as tightly as he can, almost curled double on himself. But I'm confused.

"Rules?" My question seems to increase his terror rather than calming him down. "What rules?"

"I'm not meant to speak about them," he mumbles to the floor, edging further away from me as he speaks. "I'm not allowed. Please don't tell Uncle. Please? I promise I'll be good. I promise."

My usual stern demeanour is crumbling at the sight of the small boy quivering on the bed in front of me. It would be concerning were it any of my students, but this isn't any student. This is Harry Potter, Lily's son and the boy who saved the wizarding world. More importantly, he's the child of one of my favourite students and someone who became almost like a daughter to me. He should have been brought up as a favourite grandchild, not as a punching bag for his relatives' anger. He's a child I left to his fate.

"Potter, I promise you, you are not in trouble and no one will be telling your uncle anything." The desperate hope in his eyes is heart-breaking to witness. "You will not be going back to them, I promise you that they will never hurt you again. You never even have to see them again."

I'd meant the statement to be comforting, but instead my words just seemed to make the boy more terrified and to my dismay I can see the tears glistening in those vibrant green eyes. Of all the times I'd imagined finally meeting Lily's son, it was never like this. I'd hoped he'd have James's confidence and Lily's compassion, I'd imagined him as a potential trouble-maker, a future heart-throb, even occasionally as a bully. I'd never imagined the broken child in front of me, scared and alone, abandoned by his own people and unloved by his family.

"You're sending me to an orphanage." There was no question in the words, it was just a flat statement filled with more despair than a child that age should ever know. "You're giving up on me. You're all giving up on me. I understand."

"No, Mister Potter," I state firmly, appalled by the views he's spouting. Ashamed of how much we let him down. "We will find you somewhere to live with a family that will care for you as if you were their own son. You will not go to an orphanage, I promise you, even if I have to take you in myself, you will not have to go to an orphanage." As I speak the boy is shaking as tears flow silently down his cheeks. His fear of the orphanage is real and true even if I don't understand it. "Potter, I promise you, no one will hurt you again. You are not being abandoned. You have my word."

From the look on his face it's clear that he doesn't believe me. Usually that kind of disbelief from one of my students would irk me beyond belief, but from what I know of Potter's circumstances I doubt he has much experience of trusting adults. In reality, he has little reason for trusting me. On top of everything else, his muggle teachers clearly hadn't helped him much. They'd left him with his relatives, either not noticing or not believing him. Why should I be any different? Was I any different? I'd done the same thing all those years ago.

"Can you tell me more about the rules, Potter?" I try to keep my voice as gentle as possible, but somehow the boy actually seems to manage to shrink even further into himself as I speak. "I promise you, nobody will hurt you for telling me."

"You won't believe me," his voice is so quiet I can barely make out what he's saying. "You'll call me a liar and a freak and you'll call uncle and you'll leave me because nobody ever believes me and you'll hate me." As I watch his breathing has become irregular and he's started to jumble his words together. If I'm not careful Poppy will be forcibly ejecting me soon; Head of House or not, if she believes I'm putting her ward at risk I won't be staying here long.

"I already believe you, Potter." I gently reach out to rest my hand on his shoulder. "And believe me, you are not a freak. I want to help you. But I can't help you if you won't talk to me. Please, give me a chance to help you."

I can see the uncertainty in his face as he considers me and for a second I wish I had Severus here. His ability to read surface thoughts without invading a mind could help me know what could set this child's mind at rest. I don't know how to help him, I don't know how to get him to open up. My usual stern demeanour will just scare him into silence but after decades of teaching, that is how I get answers. I need to understand why he's so terrified of speaking and what will let him trust him. But somehow, without me doing anything other than watching him, he comes to a decision. He's still scared and is curled up in a quivering heap but he starts to speak.

"Rule number one: I am a freak and deserve to be punished."

The fact that his voice is now an emotionless monotone scares me more than the words that are coming out of his mouth.

"Rule number two: It is only because Aunt and Uncle are kind hearted that they took me in. I am a burden and I deserve to be left in an orphanage where they will suck my soul out. If I'm not good they will send me there.  
"Rule number three: I will stay in my cupboard unless there are chores to do. Nobody wants to see the freaks face.  
"Rule number four: Food is a privilege to be earned. Freaks do not eat with normal people.  
"Rule number five: I do not deserve books or toys. If I have a toy I stole it and must be punished. If I have a book I stole it and must be punished."

The child in front of me recited these rules for what seemed like hours, his glassy-eyed stare fixed on a random spot on the wall and his tone never varying from that emotionless monotone. I couldn't do anything but stare at him in horror. We knew he'd been starved, we knew he'd been beaten, but this? This went so much further than we could have ever imagined. He's been **trained **to believe that he's a freak, a punch-bag and worth absolutely nothing. He's been forced to live in a cupboard under the stairs. He doesn't even believe he was worthy of reading basic school books. And the most heart-breaking thing? He honestly believes it. He doesn't know any better.

"You can send me home now," the small voice interrupted my thought processes and I realised I'd let the silence stretch on too long. He'd recited the final rule a while back; _Rule 25: I am more stupid than Dudley, more useless than Dudley, more freakish than Dudley. If I cheat and seem better than I will be punished._ That small voice continued, never looking up from the bed. "I understand. It's ok that you want to get rid of me."

"Potter," I hesitate slightly. I am out of my depth and I know it. "Harry. We will not be getting rid of you. You belong here and from now on those _rules _do not exist. You eat with your fellow students, you study for your classes and you sleep in a bed. Do you understand me?"

He looks at me with complete confusion, and I can't bear the look in those eyes. I don't want to see that helplessness reflected in Lily's eyes.

"But why would you want to keep me? You know what a freak I am now. You'll want me to leave. It's ok."

Again, he's not asking me a question, and again I feel my heart breaking at the matter of fact way he says it. All of my years teaching couldn't have prepared me for this, and I can't believe that without Severus I probably wouldn't even have known. I probably wouldn't have asked. Because I trusted Albus.

"Harry James Potter," he flinches at the steel in my tone and I hastily soften my voice at his obvious distress. "Harry, you are not going anywhere. Hogwarts is where you belong and Hogwarts is where you will stay, I promise you that. I will also repeat to you, hopefully for the last time, that you are not a freak. Not by any stretch of the imagination. You are a young wizard with huge potential providing you work hard and study. Hogwarts is your home now and will always be your home. Do you understand me?"

He nods slowly, but I suspect that's more out of politeness than actual comprehension of what I am saying. Persuading a child they have been lied to for their entire life probably takes more than one talk.

"I'll leave you to your reading now, Mister Potter. I have class to get to. Madam Pomfrey should have you out in a week."

"Yes, Professor. Thank you, Professor." I turn to leave but the timid voice stops me half way across the room. "Actually Professor? Would it possible for me to ask you a question if you wouldn't mind, please?"

He flinches as I turn back to him, clearly expecting some kind of discipline. _Rule number 9: I will not speak unless spoken to and I will not ask questions._ I smile encouragingly at him and nod.

"Where would you find a bezoar, Professor? I've looked everywhere in this book and I can't find it."

"Why would you have any need to know that, Mister Potter?" I'm confused and completely taken aback. First years don't need to know anything about bezoars.

"I'm sorry, Professor." His hands are clenched so tightly around the blankets that his knuckles are completely white. "I didn't mean...I just...Ron came in earlier and was talking about the Potions lesson and Professor Snape asked Neville where you'd find a bezoar but Neville didn't know and now he has to write two foot on the properties of the bezoar and how to get it and he's panicking because he has Potions on Friday and he doesn't know so won't have the essay and Professor Snape will use his entrails in one of his concoctions so I was trying to help but I can't find anything..."

He seemed to run out of breath and gasps. I raise my eyebrows; that is the longest sentence I have ever heard uttered in my years of teaching...and Severus clearly has made his usual impression on the first years.

"Firstly," I bite back my smirk, "Professor Snape is not permitted to use students as ingredients regardless of how many cauldrons they have melted."

If he were the Weasley twins would be long gone I reflect ruefully. If not for their ability to annoy, then for the fact that they constantly annihilate the Slytherin team on the Quidditch pitch.

"Secondly, in answer to your question, a bezoar is an antidote to most known poisons and is located in a goat's stomach. They are usually made of hair, plant fibre, or similar indigestible matter that stays in the gut of an animal and forms a hard ball or "stone". They are used in preparation to many antidotes. I will get Madam Pince to send a couple of relevant books up here if you wish so that you and Neville can research it together." It'll be good for the boy to start making friends. I'll also have a word with Severus about setting impossible tasks to first year students. Two foot on the properties of the bezoar would be beyond most third year students.

With that I walked out of the Hospital Wing only to walk straight into the Weasley boy as he bolted around the corner.

"Sorry Professor, I didn't see you there…" he stuttered.

"Difficult to see anything when you're running around in such an unseemly fashion," I say drily. "Five points from Gryffindor for running in the corridors. May I ask why you are in such an undignified rush?"

"I wanted to drop these notes in for Harry, Professor," he waves a sheathe of parchment in my general direction, "but I'm meant to be in detention with Professor Binns and I don't want to be late."

I raise my eyebrows further. It's unlike Cuthbert to be paying enough attention to the students to assign detentions. Why Albus kept him on after he died is one of Hogwarts many mysteries.

"Pray tell Mister Weasley, how you managed that?"

He blushes brightly, not a look that goes well with his hair in the slightest.

"Well, umm, I thought it would be funny to see if I could get a wad of parchment through the Professors' head," he responds sheepishly. Well, at least he's honest about it.

"If you could save such shots for the Quidditch field next year it would be much appreciated and may save you earning another set of detentions," I comment snidely. If possible the boy goes even more red. "However, your dedication to Mister Potter is noted; ten points to Gryffindor." I nod sharply and leave him gaping in the corridor. Well, he was running for a good reason.

And yet again I find myself heading towards the dungeons.

"Afternoon, Minerva," the snide drawl greets me as I approach. "This is becoming an unfortunate habit. If we are not careful people may start talking."

I fix him with that glare again, the one patented through years of dealing with Black's, Potter's and Weasley's.

"Bezoars, Severus?"


	8. Things that didn't happen

Many thanks for all of the reviews, they are very much appreciated. Dr Stranger you are right - firstly my maths was off by a year; all references to leaving Harry there eleven years ago have been changed. Secondly, in a formal setting Minerva would call all of her students Mister (surname) so I have changed some of these. Not all of them, because during the hospital wing Minerva was also trying to set Harry at rest which wouldn't work with the title and also because I'm selfish and it would ruin the flow of the words. There are also multiple occasions in canon where she does not refer to students with their titles (single one when she calls Wood out of Flitwick's class). I do stick by my views of Snape though. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy.

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**Chapter 8: Things that didn't happen**

"But he's melted five cauldrons!"

That sounded suspiciously like a whine. I can't help but roll my eyes. Severus Snape, Potions Master and exceptionally talented wizard has let an eleven year old get under his skin. I rephrase that in my mind, he's let an eleven year old who doesn't carry the name Potter under his skin.

"Perhaps Severus, the boy might be less inclined to melt cauldrons if he didn't believe you were planning on using his organs as Potions ingredients?" I raise my eyebrows just a fraction as I glare at him. "We are all very well aware of your proclivity to favour your Slytherins but there is little doubt that as far as teaching methods are concerned, when students either believe you are a vampire or are planning on harvesting their organs they do not tend to perform to their highest potential."

He mutters something under his breath which I don't quite catch, although I'm fairly confident the phrase 'blundering idiots' was included in it somewhere. There was possibly also a reference to incompetent dunderheads.

"Honestly Severus," I snap sharply, "the boy is clearly terrified of you. I believe it is our job to teach rather than to terrorise or have I interpreted our roles in the school incorrectly?"

This is not the first time we have had this kind of discussion over the years. Severus is not noted for his patience at the best of times, but he is particularly atrocious with the Gryffindor's. And when it's a Gryffindor with an extraordinary talent for destroying cauldrons his patience is likely to be stretched well past its limits.

"I assume you did not come down here simply to berate me for my dealings with Longbottom, Minerva?" I've clearly touched a nerve and he's seeking to change the topic of conversation.

"You assume correctly, although it bears thinking on that when you are setting impossible tasks to terrified first year students, perhaps your teaching methods may require honing." I raise my eyebrows again and simply look at him…much as I would treat a recalcitrant first year myself.

"Are you telling me how to teach a class, Minerva?" His voice has dropped to that dangerous pitch again.

"I do believe I am," I respond calmly. The rapid blink to his eyes suggests he had expected me to back down at this point. "Do you honestly believe it is unnecessary considering my intervention was required so members of my House would not be gaining additional detentions and loss of points for being unable to complete a task most third year students would struggle to complete? Your blatant favouritism can be overlooked, reducing my students into hysterical messes is a little more difficult to condone, Severus"

With that, the ball is firmly back in his court now. Depending on how difficult Severus decides to be this conversation could take a while. It's true though; Slytherin House tends to be ostracised by many of the other tutors in favour of any of the other three Houses. With that in mind we tend to turn a blind eye to Severus' blatant favouritism regardless of how unfair it seems. In reality what we need to be aiming for is House unity and co-operation. Unfortunately that is difficult when the majority of Slytherin House have spent their entire lives in pureblood families which see the mixing of blood as an abomination. When you add into the cauldron the family rivalries that are often already in place when younger siblings come to the school, it is next to impossible to bring the Houses together.

"What was the other matter you came to discuss, Minerva?" His voice is as close to subservient as I have heard it. He's backing down. Now that makes my life an awful lot easier.

"Do you have access to a pensieve, Severus?" I've said my piece, there's no point in prodding a wounded snake.

"I do, as you are more than aware, Minerva."

"Would you mind collecting it for me? This is probably best seen rather than told."

Truthfully, I don't know how to recount my last dealings with Mister Potter. How could I explain the complete desolation and hopelessness that I felt whilst listening to the boy reciting those _Rules_ his uncle and aunt had set in place, or his complete unthinking acceptance of them. I don't know what to think of it myself, let alone how to explain it to one Potions Master who is bound to reject half of what I say unless he has proof. Additionally the memory will be of great use for Amelia Bones; I've already had Potter go through it once and would prefer to save him repeating the harrowing experience if at all possible.

Severus turns with that characteristic sweeping of his long black robes. If I didn't know better I'd swear he'd enchanted them make that particular movement, however absurd the thought is…although it's less absurd than the thought that he might actually have practiced the motion in a mirror till perfection. The thought alone makes me grin despite myself and I have to school my face into a look of careful contemplation as the man walks back into the room. That doesn't stop me from deciding to research whether a robe-sweeping spell is at all possible once this is over.

He sets his pensieve on the table carefully and then looks at me with the same raised eyebrows that I used earlier.

"I assume you know how to use this, Minerva?" The sarcasm is once again evident.

"Indeed I do," I respond politely before raising my wand to my temple and carefully imagining the memories that I want to be included in the bowl. This doesn't come as naturally to me as it does to either Albus or Severus and takes a great deal more concentration, but eventually I have the entire memory of my meeting with the Potter boy in the pensieve. I look back at Severus and see him eyeing me closely; clearly the amount of effort I expended was not missed despite my efforts.

"Would you care to join me?" I ask carefully holding my hand above the pensieve. I want to see Severus' responses myself.

"Certainly," he responds, without any of his usual arrogance or sarcasm. The sharing of memories directly is not something to be taken lightly. Severus of all people knows this well. "Whenever you are ready."

So together we reach into the pensive and again I am taken aback by the sensations of falling headfirst into my own memories. It is not the first time I have used a pensieve, but there is something deeply disorientating about being plunged into icy cold and dark sensations before regaining your balance in a world which has already been and gone. It is not a sensation I overly enjoy or care to repeat too often. Needs must though.

The memory starts just as I enter the Hospital Wing to find Potter reading the potions text and I'm both watching my own reactions and those of Severus Snape whilst keeping a peripheral view of Potter. I watch the confusion and horror that suffuses my own face at the sight of the child tucked so abjectly into the corner of the bed as well as the similar emotions that play across our Potions Masters face. At the line, _You won't believe me, you'll call me a liar and a freak and you'll call uncle and you'll leave me because nobody ever believes me and you'll hate me_, I watch the anger slowly creeping onto Severus' face. But it's not just anger. There's understanding and pity warring in his expression. Having heard his earlier explosion at Albus, I now understand why.

By the time Potter has finished reciting his R_ules, _the man beside me is shaking slightly although he has cleared his expression of any residual anger. I realise suddenly that silent tears are dripping down my own face now, the tears I couldn't afford to let loose in front of Potter regardless of how old I looked at that moment. The tears I never let fall in front of anyone. Severus is too busy watching the boy to notice my unusual show of weakness and I realise he is staring straight into the boy's eyes. Lily's eyes. Eyes clouded by pain and fear. He's not looking at the child as a Potter; he's looking at him and seeing Lily. Lily broken and ashamed. Lily bullied and terrorised. The fury once again lights up his in own eyes.

There's a slight snort at Potter's panicked rush about Neville's entrails being used in one of Severus' own concoctions, but his eyes still haven't left the broken child on the bed. And as the memory ends Severus pulls both of us out of the pensieve with practised ease, leaving us both back in the present time and staring at each other. Neither of us seems able to speak. Finally Severus sweeps out of the room and then returns holding a vial in his left hand. He offers it to me and I look at him questioningly.

"Calming Draft, Minerva," he answered my unspoken question surprisingly mildly. I shook my head trying to indicate that it wasn't necessary, but the insufferable man just rolled his eyes at me. "What have I said previously about foolish Gryffindor pride? You are positively grey, shaking like a leaf and verging on barely restrained hysteria. I may not be a fully trained medical professional but I am more than capable enough of recognising those symptoms."

I find myself being manoeuvred with a surprising amount of gentleness onto one of the sofa's as he pushes the vial into my hand. Thankfully he doesn't mention the tear tracks that must be clear against my skin.

"Potter needs you to be strong for him and this is the quickest way to ensure that you are capable of doing what now needs to be done," his dark eyes are completely serious and as I look at the vial trembling in my hand, I realise he's right. I can't do anything whilst in this state. I swallow the liquid in a single stinging gulp as strong but steady hands push me gently forwards. "Head between your knees until it kicks in." I can almost hear the smirk. "Simple muggle remedy that's remarkably effective."

As the Calming Draft kicks in I can't help but ponder the absurdity of this situation. Severus Snape, the most irritable and intimidating person within the castle walls (with the possible exception of Argus Filch) is actually being comforting. To a Gryffindor none the less. It doesn't happen! I can't help the giggle that escapes me and Severus quickly removes his hand from my shoulder.

"I would have thought you'd be able to handle a standard Calming Draft, Minerva," there's the usual sarcasm back although it's tinted with that strange edge of concern.

"Apologies, Severus," I remark quickly, sitting up slowly and cautiously.

He nods briskly before offering a hand to help me stand. Yet another unusual gesture. Clearly I concerned him more than he's letting on. I stand and wait whilst he briefly glances over my face as if to ensure that there will be no further issues or concerns. His hooded gaze looks at me penetrively before he nods again.

"I don't believe a trip to Poppy is in order," he concludes finally. "Do you feel well enough to continue?"

I nod silently. Severus has already proven that he can plan most efficiently, I'm willing to let him do the same now.

"Right, despite my natural urge to pay the muggle relatives a visit myself..." That feral snarl is back on his face and I could almost pity the uncle if he stood before us now. "I believe it would be more sensible to do this in the official manner. Do you have any problems with allowing Filius and Pomona to view that memory?" He catches my hesitation and reads me perfectly. "If you do not wish to view it again I am more than happy to take that responsibility."

Again I nod silently.

"In that case I will go and fetch Amelia Bones whilst you go and find Filius and Pomona," he looks at me sharply. "I would check with Pomona first as to whether she is willing to witness that particular memory and give warning about what it contains. Her having a sentimental breakdown here will not be beneficial to anyone."

I could almost hear the unspoken words; _Especially me._

* * *

It didn't take long before everyone was assembled back in Severus' quarters with the pensieve perched neatly between them. Amelia and Filius both looked determined whilst Pomona looked faintly nauseous, Severus simply looked murderous. I took a step back from the pensieve and Filius looked at me questioningly with a silent concern.

"I have already seen this twice," I say quietly. "I do not wish to see it again today."

He nods slowly before stepping towards the pensieve with the others. I sit in silent witness until they return looking as grey and helpless as I feel. Pomona is still crying and Filius, well, I don't know what to say about Filius. Much as when we went to confront Albus there is no smile residing anywhere near his expression, but the anger is dimmer. With Albus he had a target, now we simply have a lost and frightened child.

"I need to take a statement from the boy," Amelia speaks bluntly as she turns towards me.

"No," I respond equally. "I stated before he should be considered fit enough to leave the Hospital Wing by the end of the week and you are free to take a statement then. You have mine and Severus' memories and Madam Pomfrey's report which is more than enough to go with for the moment. There is little need to take a statement when there is such clear evidence without it; that memory alone would stand up in a court. But should one be truly necessary, any interviews with Mister Potter will take place with either myself or Poppy at hand to call an end to it if we believe it necessary. I will not have him subjected to any more trauma."

"So what do you want to do?" she asks.

"I need to ensure he is safe," I respond simply. "I need to ensure that he is in no further danger from adults in any format," I glance sharply over at Severus. "I also need to ensure he has a willing and safe home to go home to. For this to happen I need us to work together. As Heads of House we all need to monitor Mister Potter's behaviour in class and the behaviour of those close to him. We need to watch how he is treated and how much of an effect his previous upbringing has on his ability to participate in class. Any further support that needs to be given must be reported to me."

I look each of them in the eye.

"More than anything, we need to stick together if we are challenged regarding the decision to remove the boy from his current guardians. Albus has some very high flying connections and is well loved and trusted." I look at Amelia carefully. "That is where you come in Amelia, we need a decent home found for the boy as soon as it is possible to do so; the quicker we move the less chance there is of an retaliation being made. You are best placed to this."

I wait until she nods before continuing.

"We also need something done about the muggle relatives. Have you found anything out?"

Amelia looks at me carefully before speaking.

"If we are willing to use the wizarding courts and justice system then Mister Potter will never have to make a statement if he does not wish to. Your memories and testimony will be enough to implement Veritaserum on the muggle relatives and gain testimony that way, however if this goes through the wizarding word it will become Daily Prophet headlines within the week." She scrutinises me carefully. "Is that what you think is best for Mister Potter?"

I close my eyes and sigh. Rita Skeeter would have a field day. '_The-Boy-Who-Lived Left To Rot Alone', _'_The School That Abandoned The-Boy-Who-Lived'_, '_Hogwarts Attempts To Cover Up Child Abuse Scandal Regardless of Lightning Shaped Scar'._ It would never stop and it would get more personal to Harry himself as Rita tried to dig out every little bit of information she could about the house in which he had lived and the people he had lived with. He would no longer be Harry Potter The-Boy-Who-Lived, but Harry Potter The-Boy-Who-Was-Abused, and he would be known as it across the country if not the world. Could I do that to him?

Amelia clearly notices where my thoughts have gone and speaks again.

"An alternative would be to use the muggle justice systems, but Mister Potter would have to make some form of statement and probably appear in court. Their police department would want to speak with him and question him as well as us. There would also be discrepancies in explaining where the boy is going to school or living when as far as the muggles are convinced, we don't exist."

"Yes, that could be problematic," I agree. "But we have to do something."

"Indeed we do," the other woman agreed. "I will begin making enquiries with the muggle authorities."

I swear I just saw her exchange a pointed look with Severus. Did the Head of Magical Law Enforcement just do that? Does she realise what she's just effectively given him permission for?

I am going to forget I ever saw that look.

It didn't happen.


	9. Regrets and Responsibilites

Apologies - for some reason this took an astronomical amount of time to write up. Many thanks for all the reviews, it is very much appreciated. This was meant to incorporate the first flying lesson as well but that shall have to come next...

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**Chapter 9: Regrets and Responsibilities **

"What have you done with the Dursley's?"

I had been called up to Albus' office on some spurious excuse regarding the new Prefects so had no doubt that this meeting would have something to do with Potter. Albus doesn't become involved in reviewing the Prefects until close to the end of year when we are looking for a Head Boy and Head Girl. As soon as I entered the room I was certain that my assumption was not incorrect. It's rare to see our esteemed Headmaster lose control of his emotions, but he is dangerously close now.

I school my face into something resembling confused exasperation.

"What are you talking about, Albus?" I deliberately don't quite look Albus in the eye; not far off, close enough to seem accidental but giving him the opportunity to take that last meeting with Amelia and Severus does not seem wise. "I have had no contact with Mister Potter's relatives. My role was to ensure the legal aspects of removing him from that house were set in motion. The only person who would have gone to see them would be Amelia Bones."

I wait patiently. Albus is pacing around his office looking thunderous.

"I very much doubt that an entire muggle family disappearing without a trace or explanation has anything to do with our Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Minerva."

"They've disappeared?" It's a good job I never asked Severus what he was going to do, it's an accepted fact that I am a horrendous liar. The skills which Severus learned by necessity and Albus by instinct are not natural to me; I tell it like it is and that's the way I'll continue to be.

"You didn't know?" He looks at me speculatively before sighing heavily and sitting down. Steepling his fingers together carefully on the desk he looks at me seriously over those half-moon spectacles of his before speaking again. "You promise me, Minerva. You don't know?"

"I have no idea," I respond more or less honestly. I might have an idea about who is behind this mysterious disappearance but no more than a guess I tell myself. "Albus, you know me better than that."

He looks at me again with that speculative gaze before dropping his eyes to the table.

"I'm unsure how well I know anyone any more, Minerva," he says heavily. I can't help quirking my eyebrows slightly; _Albus _doesn't know who he can trust anymore? To steal a marvellous muggle phrase, now that's the cat calling the kettle black. How does he think the rest of us caught up in this mess feel? "You, Filius, even Severus…" he trails of dejectedly.

"Albus, that is exactly how we are feeling," I say gently. "We trusted you, we have always trusted you."

"I only wanted to do what was best for the boy, I just wanted him to be safe," there's no twinkle in those bright blue eyes and he sounds completely sincere. I just wish I could believe him. "Petunia sealed the blood wards. I knew he wouldn't be in the happiest of families, but I thought he'd be fine. He was safe."

"Except he wasn't, was he, Albus?" Even if he is genuinely regretting how Potter was treated, it is still ten years too late. "You failed him, Albus. You failed him, you failed me, you failed all of us. We trusted you." My voice cracks without my permission. "God damnit Albus, I've failed him. I failed him because I listened to you, believed you, trusted you. Lily would never forgive me." I look at him, the greatest wizard of all time, the leader of all that is light and I feel my heart breaking. "I don't think I can forgive you for that. I don't think I should."

I turn to walk towards the door but stop as I hear a faint choked sob from behind me, so soft that I almost missed it. If it hadn't been for my years of honing my hearing to catch the whispered asides from students, I probably would have missed it. I turn back, unwilling to believe what I am certain I've just heard, but my ears did not deceive me. Albus is standing facing towards his study, but the slight shake to his shoulders is unmistakable. The man I would have followed to death and beyond, the rock of my existence is crying.

"Albus…" I say softly.

His shoulders straighten and I can sense rather than see the effort it takes to steady himself.

"I believe you have made your views perfectly clear, Minerva" His tone is controlled, even harsh, but the decades I have spent walking at Albus' side allow me to hear how flat he sounds, how tired. "I believe that you missed your cue to leave."

It would be so easy to walk out of that door right now, so easy to leave the meddling fool to whatever is preying on his mind. It's not as if he doesn't deserve it. It's not even as if I give a rotten fig about those abusive muggles or what might have befallen them. But in conscience, I cannot. I have stood by this man's side too long to do that.

I was by his side through the dark days of Grindelwald and the even darker days of You-Know-Who. I watched him wrestle with his conscience over Grindelwald, how he dithered and fretted because of their childhood friendship, how he very nearly let his emotions win. I watched him make one of the hardest decisions of his life and stand by it. I witnessed his stoic grief as we lost friends, family, colleagues, and allies in the last war and how his strength and compassion kept us standing strong no matter how great the loss. I saw his obvious grief and guilt at the death of Lily and James, his honest and true sorrow as the death toll mounted day after day after day with no end in sight. I can attest to his pure consternation over the fate of Alice and Frank Longbottom as well as the long nights he spent trying to find some way to reverse the damage.

I was by his side then and throughout everything the man in front of me was my rock, my foundation, my strength. I never doubted him. Now? I'm disillusioned and wary but I cannot turn my back on the one man who has been the centre of my very world. I cannot walk away from such a history without a backwards glance. To do so would be to go against the very nature of the universe. And despite everything, my chest is tight and thoughts flying because through all these years, all the dark days and the horror, I have never seen Albus cry. I have seen him guilt-ridden, I have seen him grieving. I have certainly seen him angry and even vengeful. But I have never seen him breaking. He has been wounded, threatened and assaulted on all sides, he has lost close friends on a daily basis and shouldered the burden of being the one everyone looked to and trusted yet always stayed strong. Now I am faced with an old friend, the rock to so many of us…crying.

"Albus…" I say again, so softly that it's barely audible as I walk slowly forwards. "Albus…I…" I stop hesitantly.

He turns to face me and although I had expected it, the tears glistening in those blue eyes still shocks me right down to my core.

"I said you can go now, Professor. You have made your feelings clear."

He looks so old, so tired, so weary. But at the same time something about him reminds me of the very children I teach when they have reached the limit of what they can cope with. As he sits heavily in the chair I can't help but notice a stray tear falling down his cheek.

"Albus Percival Dumbledore," I snap. "If you think I'm leaving you like this you have another thing coming."

Albus doesn't look up as he responds and once again I am struck by how lifeless his voice sounds. How desolate.

"I did what I thought was right," I hold in a snort. "I only wanted to protect the child…"

He sounds somewhat like a broken record but the pain in his face is so evident there is no way on this earth that I'd point that out to him. There's no way I can leave. I have no option other than to simply stand and listen.

"I didn't want him growing up with the inflated ego that so many magical families would have given him. The boy would have been revered and spoilt for something we would never remember doing. He'd never have known a normal childhood." I desperately want to point out that he didn't have a normal childhood anyway, just for very different reasons but hold my tongue. "But more than that, I knew that half of Voldemort's followers wouldn't go to Azkaban and they'd be furious at the loss of their Dark Lord. They'd want revenge and the only way to get revenge would be on a child who had no idea how much chaos he had just caused. He wouldn't have survived the week."

Albus stops speaking and looks directly at me for the first time since he turned around and once again I am shocked by how weary he looks.

"I did what I thought best," he sighs. "And in case I was wrong I stationed Arabella Fig to keep an eye on the boy over the years."

"And she never reported anything back to you those ten years," I raise my eyebrows sardonically. "She never mentioned that he was getting beaten on a daily basis? Or that he had to live in a cupboard? Maybe that he was malnourished to the point of near death? Or even that he believed himself to be a freak, unworthy of love or attention, unworthy to even eat without express permission, unworthy to go to the toilet?" My voice is rising without even trying. "A freak, Albus. Not even worthy of the title 'human'."

The flinch Albus gives is unmistakable and I can't help feeling a vague sense of satisfaction flow through me. There's complete silence in the room as I wait patiently for a response, I watch Albus carefully as he struggles to keep himself together.

"She didn't say that," he finally concedes.

"So what did she say, Albus? What did she tell you? Did she tell you about the broken bones or the concussions? Did she mention the fear and the nights alone? Did she bother to let you know that she was living next to a hurting, terrified little boy who thought his parents had died in a car crash?" The look of shock on his face equals the anger that is a rising tide in my chest, barely been kept under control by the rigid self-control I pride myself on.

"Did she tell you, Albus? And if she didn't, did you bother to ask?"

I leave the room without looking back at Albus but I stop at the door.

"I don't know what's happened to the Dursleys, but you'd better hope they have gone a long, long way from here because with the Gods as my witness I will not hold myself responsible for my actions if I get my hands on them."

If I don't leave now there is no chance that I will be able to keep a handle on my frayed temper. It's a good job that Potter has now been let out of the Hospital Wing as at least that is a weight off my mind, but I'm more shaken than I have been in all of my many years of working at Albus' side. He seemed honestly distraught, but whether that is due to the trust and respect he has lost or the state of the boy, I don't know.

Poppy has even given reluctant permission for Potter to join in with the flying lessons providing he takes it easy and doesn't over exert himself. He's on the mend although it is going to take quite a while longer before his attitude starts to change; trying to get the boy to answer questions or speak out in class is like getting blood from a stone. It's clear he's listening to everything that is said, he takes detailed notes and ensures that all of his assignments are handed in on time, no member of staff can complain about his work. He's just so shy it's painful to watch, he's desperate not to bring attention to himself.

I'm more grateful than ever for the Weasley boy. Potter appears to have decided to stick to him like glue; where one goes the other is right behind. Had it been me, my temper would have been getting frayed by now with the constant lack of solitude or personal space but I guess growing up with six siblings' leaves you rather oblivious to that kind of attitude. In fact the newest addition to our red-headed clan seems to revel in it; Potter's dependency on him has given him a chance to shine regardless of how many older brothers are vying for attention. It would not surprise me if those two are soon closer than brothers themselves.

Now I just need to try to find a way to make Miss Granger fit in. A Gryffindor with the head of a Ravenclaw without a doubt; it wouldn't surprise me if she'd digested every textbook before she got here. She can spit out textbook answers without hesitation or issue but doesn't appear to have the same genius in making friends or any form of social abilities for that matter. If anything her never ceasing keenness and constantly waving arm is gaining her the irritation and frustration of her peers.

I've got an easier job than Severus though. He's got an entire clan of Death Eater kids this year.

No, I don't envy him that.


	10. Father's Footsteps

Many thanks again for the reviews and for the favourites/follows- just hit 100/250! Yes, I am doing something about widening the usual circle of friends past the Golden Trio, not sure exactly how but I'll get there and Neville will certainly be part of it without losing Ron. Where the Dursley's have disappeared to will be explored in the next couple of chapters... I don't know whether I'll put in a Snape POV; a large part of me thinks that if I was going to do that I ought to have done one chapter each from the beginning. Hopefully you enjoy anyway...

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**Chapter 10: Father's Footsteps**

In all honesty this year is already making me extremely edgy and uncomfortable, and we are less than a month in. Even before Potter turned up there was too much going on and too many secrets, then the boy turned up and things took an even stranger turn. Albus' plans for this year had always unsettled me, but I'd let them slide past me in the belief that he always knew what he was doing. Now I'm not so sure. We have a school of children between the ages of eleven and eighteen; that in itself is a bubbling pit of chaos, hormones and confusion. Except Albus has added the Philosopher's Stone into the equation. Of all things to keep in the castle we are harbouring the stone that gives eternal life let alone eternal wealth. I'll be the first to admit that the majority of students wouldn't know what it is even if they held it in their own two hands but still, it's the principle of the thing.

Then to make matters worse, in his attempts to protect the Stone, Albus has 'borrowed' a three-headed dog from Hagrid which is one of the most vicious, ill-mannered and dangerous creatures I have ever had the misfortune of seeing. Not only do we have a huge killing machine in the castle but for some reason beyond my comprehension it is kept behind a single door on a third floor corridor which can be opened with a simple alohomora spell; it beggars belief. Any competent first year could get through that door if they wanted to and then find themselves met with a monstrosity that will kill them as soon as look at them with one of its three heads. Albus hasn't even bothered to put the counter charm in place, seemingly naively believing his warning at the beginning of term will stop the students from exploring. He appears to have forgotten that we have the Weasley twins who are repeatedly found in the Forbidden Forest very possibly simply because it's forbidden.

But most worrying of all is that thought that the stone can bring everlasting life. I haven't forgotten my conversation with Severus, not by a long shot. _"He's a shadow of himself but he is not gone." "Trust me Minerva, sources say he is currently hiding in Albania but how long he'll stay there is another matter entirely. He is going to come back." _He's a shadow of himself. Could the Philosopher's Stone be enough to bring He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named back? Is that why Albus is so desperate to hide the Stone here? Is that why he wanted us to set up that ridiculous set of tasks in front of the Stone? In that case the one thing that You-Know-Who will want more than anything else in the world at this moment in time is ensconced here at Hogwarts. It is here, surrounded by innocent children and defended with a series of challenges that would keep an average witch or wizard out, but certainly would be no match for that particular challenger. It's mind boggling.

But despite all of these concerns I don't seem to be able to shake the look in Albus' eyes before I left his office. His obvious weariness and grief is haunting me like some kind of phantom. My gut instinct is that it was genuine, that I wasn't meant to observe his breakdown. But for the first time in many years I find myself second guessing myself and my interpretations, I am unsure as to how much of my own instincts I can believe. If I have been so wrong for so many years then all of my dealings with Albus need to be carefully scrutinised, I cannot afford to make the same mistakes again. Ignorance is my only excuse for my failures so far, it is a poor enough excuse to begin with and it cannot be used twice.

My meandering walk has taken me into the castle grounds without even realising where my feet were heading; I was far too lost in my thoughts to pay a great deal of attention to the surroundings around me. But the sight of three forms in the air catches my attention; there is not enough of them for it to be a Quidditch practice and if I am not mistaken it's the first year flying practices this afternoon. But why are only three of them in the air? And why are they so high? Madam Hooch ensures that first year classes don't do much more than hover at this point in the year; much to the annoyance of the purebloods considering they have often been on broomsticks since before they can walk. As far as Rolanda is concerned it's the only way to keep a level playing field between the muggle born and those born to well-known families, as well as an easy way to weed out all the bad habits that they have taught themselves. Sensible as far as I'm concerned. But something is wrong and I find my pace has now quickened and become purposeful.

All three of them are flying purposefully, two of them apparently stalking the third figure and there's none of the hesitation you would expect to see from first years. There is no way this is part of the planned lesson. Then suddenly the smallest of the three figures starts a completely horizontal dive and I've broken into a run, but I know instinctively that I have no chance of reaching them before he hits the ground and I know just as well that there is no way a first year could pull off the dive that is unfolding in front of me. He is going to hit the ground head first; he's going too quickly with too little control and I can hear the screams from the first year group in front of me. This is going to end in disaster and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I wouldn't trust a sixth year to complete that manoeuvre and I've seen enough of them try, but on the old school brooms it is effectively a suicidal gesture. But no matter how fast I run, regardless of how far outstretched my wand is there is no way I can get there in time.

My heart is thudding against my chest, I'm yelling without even knowing what words are coming out of my mouth and I barely care as I have just realised which first year is making that suicidal dive. There isn't another student that small, and I can see the red hair of his companion from here. The realisation makes my chest tighter than I thought possible and I find myself running faster than anyone of my age should be capable of, wand outstretched in a desperate yet completely ineffectual bid to stop that child from hitting the ground at the speed he's going at. And then I stop. Because despite all the logic, despite the complete impossibility of the feat, the broom has slowed and turned upwards allowing the boy to roll lightly off it and scramble to his feet holding something glinting slightly in the sunlight up for everyone to see as his classmates cheer. Part of me wants to scream at him and part of me wants to hug him. That doesn't stop me from breaking back into a more leisurely run as I approach the group.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" It doesn't surprise me to see the Weasley boy land carefully beside Potter, nor does the fact that both of them are shaking like a leaf. Closely following him is Draco Malfoy, which doesn't surprise me either; that child has a knack for causing trouble and creating followers. His two giant friends are living proof of that. I'm going to do something about him as well before he gets out of hand.

"_Never_ – in all my time at Hogwarts…" I can barely speak past my thudding heart and pure shock. I can't believe the boy is still in one piece, and the relief mingling with the realisation of what could have just happened leaves me speechless. Speechless and furious. "What in heaven and earth possessed you…" I spit out venomously. "How _dare_ you!? You could have broken your neck with that foolhardy dive! I don't how you didn't…"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor…"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil. I notice you had the sense to stay on the ground in the absence of Madam Hooch.

"But Malfoy –"

"As for you," I turn to face the youngest Weasley sharply, "you have an equal amount of explaining to do."

He withers before my glare and I glance at Malfoy who has separated himself from the two Gryffindor's and is looking unbearably smug. The instigator of this incident is clear, although he at least had the brains not to attempt a fifty foot dive. Looking back at Potter I begin to regret my tone of voice though as once again that look of absolute terror has overtaken his features and he's doing everything he can to seem as small as possible. He's not one to disobey the rules, whatever had him up in the air against orders, and there's no way Rolanda would have left them without strict orders, must have seemed important at the time.

"I followed Malfoy, Professor," Weasley stuttered and stammered, shaking almost as hard as Potter. "He'd taken Neville's Remembrall, and Neville is in the Hospital Wing 'cause he broke his wrist…"

"So you decided to recover it yourself rather than fetching a Professor?" I remark snidely.

"I told you that you'd get us all into trouble," the voice of Granger is unmistakable even without turning around. I hear it enough in class nearly enough to start hearing it in my dreams. "I warned you."

"That's enough from you as well, Miss Granger. Your input is not necessary." Harsh, but the sooner she learns to stop acting as if she's better than the rest of the class, the sooner she might actually make some friends. "Continue, Mr Weasley."

"Well, umm, yeah. I grabbed the broom and followed him. But I couldn't get it back on my own, so I yelled for Harry to come up and join me…" I roll my eyes at the joint stupidity of children. "But Malfoy threw the Remembrall and there was no way I could have caught it but Harry…" he stops and looks at his feet.

"But Mister Potter successfully caught it after a dive that even your brother couldn't have managed?"

The power of speech appears to have completely deserted him and I look across the three boys. One grinning as though his Christmas had come early, one close to being a trembling wreck on the floor and one quite clearly terrified of what he'd goten his friend into.

"Do not think I have forgotten your part in this, Mister Malfoy," I say without turning and I sense rather than see his smirk disappearing. "An immediate punishment of ten points from Slytherin for being on a broom without permission as well as another ten points for taking another students property without their permission and attempting to destroy it."

"But, Professor! That's not –"

"I would stop there, Mister Malfoy. It is perfectly reasonable and I will also be taking ten points from Gryffindor. You will report to Professor Snape for detention tomorrow, he will set the time. As for you two…" I glance at my two Gryffindors, my hot-headed and foolhardy Gryffindors. "…follow me."

I start walking back towards the castle, firmly expectant that neither boy will disobey that order. In reality I should have taken points from both of them, but considering the Malfoy boy was clearly the one to start it I don't have the heart. I catch the whispered conversation from behind me, or at least the one sided whispers from the Weasley.

"If she was going to expel us, we'd already be out and she wouldn't have taken points from Gryffindor, Harry. She took half as many from us anyway. Don't know what she's gonna do instead though…do you think they allow physical punishments…Fred and George have never said though and they've done loads of stuff whilst they've been here, I'm sure they'd have mentioned it. They brag enough about their detentions… Harry, why have you stopped? Come on, we don't want to get in any more trouble."

As he spoke I had already realised that the footsteps behind me had stopped and I could guess the reason. Mister Potter more than remembered the beatings and the injuries he had received from his relatives and the thought that I might do the same would be more than enough to stop him in his tracks. I turned back both expecting and dreading the tears I'd see glistening in his eyes as all his fears came back to the surface.

"Mister Weasley, we do not live in the dark ages anymore." I can see the relief shining in his own eyes; it had clearly been a valid fear despite his protests. I smile slightly. "I can assure you, you will not appreciate the alternative either though, your mother will be hearing of your exploits today."

A punishment I've discovered even works on the Weasley twins. He pales significantly and I smile grimly.

"But Mister Potter has no reason to fear corporal punishment, that I promise you." His green eyes fix on mine and I can see both the fear and the hope there. "I don't make promises lightly, Potter. You can trust me."

We continue through the castle as I consider my options. My initial wave of fury has long since passed, although my heart is still beating faster than ordinarily but I have had a little time to think. He caught that darn thing from a straight fifty foot dive and I wasn't exaggerating when I said that Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it. One of the best Quidditch players Hogwarts has seen in recent years could not have caught it, and yet a first year with no flying experience managed it. More than that, if I can find a loophole to the first year Quidditch rule it might just give Potter a certain amount of confidence in his own abilities and a new friendship group…as well as giving Gryffindor a chance in this year's Quidditch tournament.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

I see Potter's head fly up again with that same terror and I give him an encouraging smile. He calms down as the fifth year steps out of the door looking just as confused and concerned as the young Weasley does. It's not every day your Head of House summons you out of a class without warning and I can almost see his thoughts as he tries to figure out what he's done wrong.

I bring the baffled group into an empty classroom and banish Peeves without even thinking. Flicking my wand to wipe the blackboard of the obscenities Peeve's had been writing on it, I wonder vaguely how he came to have such a wide and varied vocabulary of swear words when swearing isn't a regular occurrence in public unless a student wishes to lose house points quickly. Particularly when the rest of his vocabulary is nowhere near as varied. One of life's many mysteries I suppose. I turn back to the boys.

"Potter, this is Oliver Wood . Wood – I've found you a Seeker."

The look on Wood's face is an absolute picture. He goes from puzzled, to astonished to delighted in less than a couple of seconds. No wonder, our Seeker last year was dreadful; didn't manage to catch a single snitch. I'd agree having a decent set of Chasers and Beaters is important, and no one is going to deny the effectiveness of the Weasley twins as Beaters; they're effectively a pair of human bludgers themselves. Unfortunately, without a decent Seeker you are losing from the word go.

"Are you serious, Professor?"

I refrain from rolling my eyes. He's almost bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet like an overexcited toddler with a new toy just out of reach. Weasley's jaw has dropped so far he might as well be catching flies; I refrain from pointing this out to him.

"Absolutely," I remark sharply. 'The boy's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?'

Potter just looks at me blankly, clearly not understanding how the situation has changed so quickly. I'm reassured by the fact that the majority of the fear has left his eyes though. Eventually he nods slightly silently.

"He caught this thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive," I say with an edge of pride to my voice that I can't seem to hide as I hold the Remembrall up for Wood to see. His eyes widen unmistakably as they flicker between the clear fist sized ball and the under sized first year in front of him. "Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."

Immediately Wood starts circling the poor lad and eyeing him as if he were a new broomstick out on the market. Potter had regained that cornered look and I could tell he was desperately trying to find a way out of this so I step between the two boys purposefully.

"That's enough for now, Wood," I remark sharply but let a slight smile soften my words. That lad lives and breathes for Quidditch. "I believe we are overwhelming Mister Potter here, this conversation can wait till tomorrow. I am certain Mister Weasley can fill him in on the intricacies of Quidditch in their dormitories."

I look directly at the youngest Weasley and watch a grin take over his face; clearly Quidditch runs just as much in this one's blood as it seemed to in the majority of that family.

"Youngest Quidditch player in a century!" I hear Wood muttering. "We'll be the stuff of legends!"

"If it means I can look Professor Snape in the eye at the end of this year's matches," I comment drily, "I will do everything in my power to bend the first-year rule. Do try not to get flattened again though." And turning back to Potter I smile again as I say, "Your father would be proud. He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."

With that I lead the two boys down to the Hospital Wing so they can reunite the lost Remembrall with its rightful owner. With any luck Weasley will be that excited about this turn of events he'll bring Longbottom in on it, heaven knows that boy needs to find some friends and his confidence for that matter. At best guess Augusta has spent the last ten years comparing him unfavourably to his parents, which would explain a great deal of his reticence and nervousness. I've even heard him comparing himself to a Squib…something needs to be done about that. I'm just not quite sure what yet. I might give his wand a glance over once he's recovered though, there's every chance that Augusta has followed the pureblood tradition and given him his father's wand. Nothing wrong with the inheritance of wands of course, but usually you are given a choice and a chance to see if any of the other ancestral wands fit as well. It would not surprise me if the boy has never laid hands on a different wand and as Ollivander is more than known for saying; the wand chooses the wizard not the other way round…and sons do not automatically follow in their father's footsteps.

Leaving the two boys at the Hospital Wing entrance I start walking back down to the dungeons. Severus is correct, I am spending far too much time down there…but I have several things I need to take care of. Firstly, the defences for the Philosopher's Stone need improving with or without Albus' permission or for that matter knowledge. And I'll ask Flitwick to put the counter charm on that door; three-headed dogs should not be hidden behind a simple locked door, particularly not with the Weasley twins in attendance. Secondly, I need to bypass the first year rule about Quidditch and owning a broomstick…that will probably be easier, but warning Severus in advance may well prevent the complete meltdown that is otherwise highly probable. Finally, I need to persuade Severus to do something about one Draco Malfoy; favouritism or not that boy has the chance to go completely off the rails and we do not need a second Lucius Malfoy; one is more than enough. As I go I summon a couple of house-elves to take hastily scribbled summons to Filius and Pomona, once again I need a full meeting of the Heads of House.

Tense and highly strung though this year has proven to be so far, it's certainly proven to be the most interesting in quite a while.

With any luck the drama will stop now.

Why do I think that's unlikely?


End file.
